


His Secret To Hold

by TommyLane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Angst, Language, M/M, Memory Loss, Oral, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5688880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TommyLane/pseuds/TommyLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end it was easy to make up his mind when Draco was presented with Dumbledore's plan, he would do it when the time came, he could become what they wanted of him, he would be the hidden snake that they all assumed he was anyway. But now it's his last week before his departure, leaving him with only five more days to spend with Harry as he prepares and remembers all their firsts, wondering if he'll have the courage to follow through with the plan or if he'll crumble under the pressure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Secret To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from the books and I am not making any money off of this.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: AU after OotP, this takes place in an alternate seventh year.

It was cold.

His finger's already numbing as he curled them up into the hem of his sleeve, the wind licking at his thick wool cloak and making it dance around his lithe frame. His toes felt like blocks of ice.

But still he stood, watching, letting the setting sun cast its orange glow and sharp gray outlines with deepening shadows. The wind howled and then quieted, the sound of laughter dying on its crest along with the thumping of feet far in the distance. The castle throbbed with life behind him but he didn't turn towards its warmth, towards the enticing smell of supper and the promise of a long lazy evening.

No, instead he watches the lone figure, obscured by towering trees and their lumbering shadows, the boy's back pressed to the trunk, his leg's bent at the knees, his head tilted back in a calm relaxation. Draco loved this moment, loved the seconds he had before Harry noticed his presence, loved catching Harry in that suspension of time where nothing else existed but whatever was playing through his own mind. He traced the lines of Harry's hand dangling in the air, his wrist bent on his knee, his fingers rubbing against themselves unconsciously.

At this distance Harry looked rested, contented, unburdened.

It wouldn't last long.

The war had been simmering to a boil for months now. Darkness encroaching on the edges of life, seeping into the homes of Wizards and Muggles alike, leaking into the once thought impenetrable castle itself in carefully released articles of death and calamity. It was growing thick in the air, the stench of decay blowing in with the wind, whispering that the Dark Lord was near, that he was coming, that death and blood would decorate the ground about his feet. Draco's own home was falling before the monster, bowing to his whims, giving him shelter, and he knew he would never be able to set foot in the Manor again without the urge to vomit. The war was heavy on every single person's mind, tainting all conversation, laughter bubbling up in the recesses from those who could pretended that the storm wasn't about to open up all around them.

But Draco wasn't one of those people who could pretend.

And maybe that was why Dumbledore had approached him, why he asked him for his sacrifice. Harry didn't know about the old man's plan for the Slytherin, Draco knew the darker boy would never agree, that he'd do everything in his power to keep Draco from doing as he was bidden. So he kept it a secret, tucked like a growing cavity inside him, eating away at his heart as the day that he would have to follow through neared. It would shock those who knew him when his actions came to light, and knew that there would be those who would snicker behind still young hands, saying that they knew he was evil all along.

 

That they had had the measure of him since he was eleven years old.

But the thing was he knew without a flicker of doubt that the world was made up of shades of gray. Nothing was simple or straightforward like so many would have everyone believe - there was always another side, another angle. He had spent so much of his life sitting back and examining the turn of the world - keeping himself just enough outside the ring, playing with darkness, touching the light, always skirting back before either could burn him. But being with Harry made him realize that it didn't matter that everything was drenched in gray and colored in the choices of so many different individuals. Because when he was standing at Harry's side it was all black and white.

 

There was Harry on side.

Voldemort on the other.

All other angles were inconsequential because he would do anything to make sure the Dark Lord didn't win and paint the entire world in his twisted, demented perception. So in the end it was easy to make up his mind when he was presented with Dumbledore's plan, he would do it when the time came, but until it did he would soak up as much time with his secret love as he possibly could.

He stepped forward, twigs crunching under his boot, drawing the dark haired boy's attention. Harry looked up with a slow smile, his cheeks cherry red from the cold, and Draco felt his heart constrict.

He had five more days until the potion was ready and he would be leaving. Five more days to make Harry smile like he was now, to make him chuckle despite the agony pressing inside him, to make him murmur those quiet words against Draco's ear and hold him tight in his arms.

Five more days of heaven before hell descended.

 

****

 

It seemed forever ago that Harry had first started looking at him differently.

It had been a slow transformation, something that shifted and glimmered and receded before starting all over again for months on end. He felt it in the way Harry's eyes tracked him throughout the castle, started to slowly understand when the boy would glare and fumble over words and blush whenever any parts of their bodies brushed together.

And then the night had come after a particularly grueling match between the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams - Harry lingering on the pitch, Draco having forgotten his favorite gloves on the ground benches. It was the usual - the snippy remarks, the jabs that didn't quite hit the same mark, the hands that jostled, and then Harry's mouth had surged forward and crashed off center against his in one surreal second.

He had dropped his gloves with a gasp and Harry ran away, tripping his way back up to the castle.

They fought in the hall the next day, hexes flew, insults hollered, but in the end Draco had his hands clenched in Gryffindor crested robes, pushing the slightly smaller boy against the wall with a snarl and Harry had done it again. He had let out a chocked cry, blinked his green eyes, and attacked him with his lips - the kiss lasting five seconds longer then the first with the smallest bite of teeth and brush of tongue.

Then Harry had shoved him off and took off down the corridor, his book bag laying forgotten at Draco's feet.

 

*****

 

"Two more families were found dead." Harry whispered, his head pillowed on Draco's chest, his fingers curled over the thump of Draco's heart.

Draco nodded and tightened his grip, holding the other boy tightly against him and closing his eyes against the knowledge that he only had four more days of this - the potion hidden in his wardrobe and bubbling its way to a dark forest green color. "Don't think of it now." He murmured, brushing his lips against Harry's temple, his fingers combing back the wild black fringe.

"One had twin boys, only a year old." Harry tipped his chin and looked up into Draco's face - his green eyes haunted, filled with the ghosts of people he hadn't met but felt responsible for anyway.

"Tomorrow Harry." He said sternly, rolling them until he was pressing the Worlds Hero into the dingy mattress that furnished the grimy floor of the Shrieking Shack. "We'll deal with it tomorrow." He repeated, pressing his lips to Harry's and feeling his heart stutter in his chest as the other boy let out a deep sigh - his legs spreading so Draco could settle fully against him.

"Going to distract me?" The kiss drifted lazily to an end and Harry smiled his shy smile, the one that always graced his lips before they tipped head long into each other’s bodies. Draco nodded and the smile grew as eyelids slid shut over green irises and Harry breathed deep. "Good, you're brilliant at that." Arms slid around Draco's back and gripped his shoulder blades, one leg hooking over his as Harry's body arched up - the dead piling up all over the country and deep in Harry's soul but for now Draco brushed it all away.

He kissed and moved over his love, driving the demons away with tears pricking behind his eyelids as he wondered how the boy would fair all alone when he left.

 

****

 

The first time Harry kissed him without running away afterwards it had been raining - sheets and sheets of droplets splattering the ground and churning everything to mud. Draco had gotten caught in the downpour coming in from hunting potion ingredients in the Forbidden Forest with Snape's written permission. He had been trudging up through the thick rivers of water and mud running down the sloping hill with the sack of precious herbs and roots slung over his shoulder and spelled to keep dry - lamenting that he was wetter than he ever thought possible and freezing, his eyes squinting in the dusk drawn light as a figure came barreling down the hill towards him.

It registered who it was two seconds before Harry was smashing into him, sending them tumbling to the ground and coating them in the sticky, root roughened mud through and through. He had sputtered and cursed and caught sight of Harry with his hair dripping into his face and his red mouth parted around what looked like a confused exclamation like Draco had been the one to tackle him and not the other way around.

"I can't stop." Harry said in a voice barely above the clap of thunder, his eyes rounded in a self-horrified sort of way before dropping to Draco's frowning lips. "I can't -" and then Harry was kissing him again, harder than before and punishing in its forcefulness, his hand fisted in Draco's ruined, soaked cloak. But it didn't end in a sudden manner like the previous times, it went on and on, Draco's lips opening beneath Harry's and his tongue vibrating with the moan the other let out as he invaded his mouth.

The kiss lasted for what seemed like a small eternity with hands pulling at locks of hair and the sound of groans drowned out by the rain, the mud freezing their limbs in an entirely uncomfortable way. The night grew black, wind blew in from the North, the ingredients Draco had spent the better half of the day tolling over retrieving spilled and ruined - tumbling down the hill with the wash of rain water.

By the time they finally dragged themselves back to the castle they looked like they had been swimming in a pool of mud, streaks of it down their cheeks and matting their hair, buried deep in their fingernails.

Granger found them despite the fact that the rest of the castle was sleeping. Harry muttered some excuse and Draco left a muddy river trailing after him all the way down to the dungeons with his cheeks pink and his heart hammering.

They both woke with bitter colds the next morning but snagged each other towards the end of the day and snogged as best they could with their stuffy noses in some random broom cupboard anyway.

 

**** 

 

"I was thinking."

"Finally managed it did you?" Draco snickered, ducking as a shoe went sailing by his head in response.

"Haha, no but seriously, we should skive off classes tomorrow. I ordered something a few weeks back and it just came in the post this morning." Harry grinned at him as he rolled onto his stomach on the deep green rug, propping his chin up on his fists. "We could nick some butter beers and sneak out to the Shrieking Shack."

 

"What is it?" Draco quirked an eyebrow, glancing up as he counted to five and started stirring counter clockwise with the wooden spoon.

"Meet me at ten and I'll show you." Harry wiggled his eyebrows in a manner that made him look rather like a buffoon but somehow charming at the same time, the tips of his ears pinking as he did so.

 

Draco bit his lip and looked back down at the potion that was getting closer to the intended forest green color every hour now. He finished his carefully timed stirs and set the spoon down, his hand moving on instinct to jot down the time, consistency, and color in his notebook. Only two more ingredients and three more days now until it was ready, Draco's stomach twisting up further in a tight coil that had been expanding and contracting since Dumbledore had first sat him down in his office and laid out his plan. He pressed a hand against his side in an attempt to lessen the pain that had gotten so bad it was hard to stand up straight at times.

It didn't work but he hardly thought it really would. Snape said it was stress and had given him a pain killing potion with an uncomfortable knowing look clouding his guarded dark eyes. But the potion made him feel sluggish and Draco wanted to be fully awake and aware during these few days he had.

"Alright." Draco said slowly, brushing invisible dust from his knees as he stood up slowly to keep from grabbing his side again. "You're on Potter."

"You okay?" Harry asked, eyeing the blonde skeptically as he twisted up onto his knees. "You look a bit ill."

"I'm fine." He smiled, his lips half turned up on one side in a rather pathetic attempt that he knew the other wouldn't buy. "I'm tired actually, I've been staying up far too late studying for my Arithmacy exam."

 

"And brewing complicated, non-required potions." Harry added, looking pointedly at the cauldron. 

"Extra credit." Draco grumbled as he fell backwards on his bed, his hand pressing tiredly over his eyes. He really was exhausted, mentally and physically. Between lessons, preparing with Dumbledore and Snape, brewing the damn potion, and trying to steal away as much time with Harry as he possibly could he was left with very little time for sleep. And even when he did find himself tucked beneath his blankets with the snores of his dorm mates around him he found that he rarely drifted off anyway - his mind too cluttered to shut off and unwind properly.

"Yes because you are really lacking in that class." The bed dipped and Draco peaked his eyes open at Harry's sarcastic comment to see the boy looming over him. "You'd tell me right? If something was really...if something was wrong?"

"Stop being so soft Potter." Draco smirked, pushing at Harry's shoulder and watching the slow smile tug on the boy’s mouth. "If you don't watch it I'll actually start thinking you care."

"Can't have that." Harry grinned and leaned down, kissing him slowly and thoroughly, Draco's hand reaching up to grip the back of his neck as Harry shifted closer. "How long till everyone gets back?" He asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to get the words out before he began trailing kisses along Draco's cheek and jaw, his hand drifting over his shoulder, down his collar, and along his chest in a promising sort of way.

"An hour at least." He said quietly even though his dorm room was empty save for them, Harry's invisibility cloak bunched up at the end of his bed, waiting until Harry was ready to sneak back out and up to his tower. "But we should study for your Charms exam, that is why you came down isn't it?" His eyelids fluttered as Harry latched onto his neck and sucked, his tongue licking his skin between little nibbles of teeth in a way that always turned him inside out.

"I'm fucked no matter what and I'd rather test out the spring in your mattress in any case." Harry murmured suggestively, his hands pushing up Draco's shirt to reveal his tapered stomach and sharply angled chest.

 

"I think we've already done that, a dozen times at least." He chuckled then gasped, his back arching into the other boy's touch as his fingers lingered over the skin right above his belt, Harry’s mouth pressing hot open mouthed kisses against his ribs. "Fuck Harry."

"That's the idea."

 

 

****

 

The first time Harry saw him naked he had been in the showers in the locker room, the Gryffindor having gotten it into his head to surprise Draco after practice. He had been washing up, his eyes closed, his mind drifting to the night before when he had Harry straddling his lap in a disused classroom, the other boy's hands on his face and their tongues dancing as they snogged for longer than Draco had thought possible before starting up this thing with Harry.

 

All his teammates had finished up and left, leaving just him and the hot water that wouldn't run cold and his memory of that hot mouth and those soft noises Harry made. His hand had drifted down his stomach towards his stirring erection - then something touched his shoulder, his eyes sprung open, and he was met with the sight of a fully clothed Harry Potter standing before him, drenching wet under the showers spray, his clothes clinging to his skin as he stared at Draco silently for long moments before falling to his knees. Draco's own knees had shook as Harry placed his hands on the pale boy’s thigh, his vivid green eyes glued to Draco's hard prick.

 

"Were you thinking of me?" Harry asked hoarsely as he glanced up, water droplets clinging to his sooty eyelashes and splattering his face in a way that seemed obscene in that moment and so fucking sexy.

"Yes." Draco crocked and Harry licked his lips, moistening already wet flesh.

"Alright." He whispered, like Draco had asked him a question and then he was leaning forward, his mouth opening and enveloping Draco's cock with a foolish courage that only graced idiotic Gryffindor’s.

 

It had been awkward, full of starting and stopping and Harry trying to get the right pace and angle and figure out how to breathe out of his nose while sucking him. But it had also been perfectly amazing - mind numbing good - Draco's hands threaded through the drenched black curls, his head thrown back against the tile, and his orgasm tearing through him all too quickly. Harry had sputtered and swallowed and pulled off with a victorious grin.

And when Draco had nervously suggested that he return the favor, Harry had stuttered and glanced at his puddle filled shoes - muttering that there was no need with an impressive blush spreading out across his cheeks and neck.

 

****

 

"You're supposed to open it."

 

Draco flicked his eyes up, smiling tightly at Harry's badly concealed excitement before looking back down at the parcel in his hands. It was small, wrapped in thick brown paper and tied closed with coarse tan twine. Harry had slipped it into his hands moments ago, his lip between his teeth, his knee bouncing up and down and making the wooden step beneath them tremble. "What is it?" He asked quietly, his throat tight and the pain in his side flaring as he felt a stirring of panic.

 

Two days. Only two damn days and then...fuck, then everything good in his life would be gone. Forgotten to all but him. And yet here they were, sitting in the Shrieking Shack, Harry chatting and talking and giving him spontaneous gifts like nothing was going to change. The knowledge, the secret burned inside him, eating away at the lining in his stomach and making it hard to keep stepping through his days. There were moments where he was sure he wouldn't be able to do it, fear and pure heartbreak threatening to make his courage snap, confession at the tip of his tongue when Harry smiled only to be painfully forced down when he looked into those startling green eyes.

 

He had to be strong. He had to sacrifice. For the greater good Dumbledore had said but that wasn't the real reason. It wasn't even part of the reason Draco made himself pretend that he wasn't scared out of his mind. It was for Harry. It was all for Harry.

 

"You. Open. It." Harry repeated slowly like Draco had gone suddenly dumb. "Are you always this challenged when presented with a present?"

 

With a halfhearted sneer and deep breath, Draco plucked the twine apart, quickly pocketing the unsightly coil before carefully ripping open the wrapping - the brown paper falling away to reveal a small black box. He felt Harry shift closer as his fingers pried the lid open on the small brass hinges, his jaw tightening as his eyes took in the locket laying still inside. It was silver, blemish free except for the two tiny stars etched evenly along the left hand side, and threaded through a long silver chain so that the elegant piece of jewelry would lie hidden beneath his shirt. It was beautiful and Draco told his fingers to not shake as he moved them to trace over the cool surface that would quickly heat against his skin the moment he donned it.

 

"Do you like it?" Harry asked quietly, his chin moving to prop against Draco's shoulder as he stared down at the box in the blonde's lap.

 

"It's lovely." He murmured, carefully lifting the locket to hold it in the palm of his hand. "But why?"

 

Harry shrugged and pressed a soft kiss against the side of his neck. "Wanted to." He pulled back with a smile, his lips curving quickly down as he caught Draco's eyes and saw the shimmer of wetness over his frosty gray. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing." Draco blinked away his unwanted tears, knowing that if he let them fall that he would break and his secret would come tumbling out in long gasping spurts. And he couldn't do that. He needed to be strong, he needed Harry to not suspect, otherwise he knew that the other boy would talk him out of it, would stop him, would keep him in his warm arms and shelter him from what he was called to do. "Thank you."

 

"But-"

 

Draco cut him off with a kiss, his hand pressing firm against his back as his other tightened in a fist around the locket. He kissed Harry desperately and found his courage once again even as his world continued to crumble around them.

 

 

 

****

 

The first time they slept together had come right after their first big fight.

 

Draco had slipped up, the degrading words out of his mouth before he could even comprehend what he was doing. The words were a habit. Nothing more. He didn't even mean them any longer. But still Granger's face screwed up in anger, Weasley exploded, and Harry gaped at him like he was sure he had heard wrong. There was screams, a few punches, a bruised cheek, a black eye, and a split lip. The trio had marched away and Draco had stared after, sure that he had just ruined everything, positive that Harry would never look at him or touch him again.

 

Harry didn't show that night for their rendezvous and Draco tried to tell himself that he didn't give a shit. The next day Harry told him to apologize and Draco sneered and he honestly didn't even know why he was being difficult, why he kept fighting. But he couldn't stop, perhaps too many years of spewing hatred and taking out his frustration on the other boy. Then the words left Harry's mouth that Draco had been sure were bound to creep up eventually.

 

His father. Death Eaters. Greasy fucking git. The usual, the expected.

 

Draco stomped away and ignored Harry calling after him.

 

Two days of nothing but silence passed and then Harry had slipped a transfigured glass rose into the Slytherin's bag like he was some bloody girl who needed to be swooned before making up. It should have pissed him off more than the silence, should have made him angrier than he already was. But he couldn't stop the smile as he held the delicate thing, nor could he keep up his scowl when Harry approached him later that evening.

 

They spoke haltingly, their language full of uncertainty. Harry neared, fingers brushed, then lips, then bodies, and before he knew it they were kissing heavily against the wall in the Room of Hidden Things.

 

A bed had appeared even though Draco hadn't wished for it. The sheets white and the headboard oak. Harry had fallen backwards, pulling Draco down to land a top him. Kisses had been fast and sloppy and fueled with overwhelming passion. Draco couldn't catch his breath, couldn't believe what was happening as clothes littered the floor, Harry's skin darker than usual against the bedding, his body flushed, his chest heaving, his eyes swimming in want. Harry whispered to fuck him and Draco felt like he had surely fallen into another reality. One where Harry was his, withering beneath him, begging to be filled. Because surely this wasn't how fighting with the Golden Boy ended. They were supposed to be over with. Harry wasn't supposed to give him a lasting rose and kiss him with need and offer himself up to be taken.

 

He had gasped with his head thrown back as Draco breached him first with fingers then with the blunt head of his cock, Draco panicking when Harry's erection flagged and his face screwed up in pain.

 

But Harry didn't let him stop and kisses were pressed to his face and legs were hooked over his hips and Draco felt like he was going to explode as he slid further into all-encompassing heat. Then he moved, slow and steady, sweat tickling his back, and Harry's muscles squeezing him like he never wanted him to leave. Then Harry cried out in a different pitch and told him to it again and even though he had no clue what it was he strove to fill Harry's body in just the right way to make him moan that broken sound again and again.

It was over quickly. They had laid entwined, sticky and panting, both grinning over the loss of their virginity and their fight forgotten.

 

****

 

The charcoal stick was stubby, too short for use really but it was his last one gracing the bottom of his box - there wasn't time to procure more, nor was there a point really, he didn't think he'd have much time for drawing in the near future anyway. So he pinched it tight and moved his hand as it blackened his fingers, gathering beneath his nails in tight packs of raven dust, scratching his fingertips with the rough drags against the parchment. The image was taking shape slowly, delicately, each line laid purposefully, each time his thumb rubbed - smearing the charcoal with even little strokes - a calculated movement.

"Can I see yet?"

Draco peeked up over the top of the parchment with a soft smile, his head tilting as he studied the shape of Harry - the curve of his head, the delicate yet strong bend of his wrist, fingers loosely holding a quill over a roll of parchment that was supposed to hold an essay but only housed a few useless doodles, sweatshirt too big and hood catching on his wild curls, knees crooked and crossed, elbow leaning thoughtlessly on the low table. He was smiling, his cheeks pink from the heat of the fireplace and the fact that he wouldn't shed his outer layer for some reason. He looked far too happy for a boy who was supposed to be studying.

"No." Draco bent his head once more and smeared the charcoal, curving out the line of his jaw, the curl of his locks, the dimple in his left cheek...

"Git." He huffed and Draco listened to him fiddle with his quill, his leg bouncing a little against the table in quiet little thuds. "Why do you like drawing me?"

"Who says I do?" Draco rebutted and Harry just stared back at him - wide eyed, blinking. "You're an oddity." He muttered, biting his lip as he smeared his thumb and shaded the hollow of his throat.

"Should I be offended by that? It sounds like I should be." Harry dropped his quill and leaned heavily on the table, staring intently and not sounding offended in the least.

Draco didn't know how to answer that, how to explain to Harry that he was a perfect contrast in all things. It sounded too sappy even in his own head and just thinking about opening his mouth and letting the words fall threatened his resolve and he needed his strength that night more than anything. He couldn't back down, he couldn't crumble. This night was to be their last one together and Draco had planned and rejected so many ideas of how to spend it, everything he thought up so abundantly lacking - and then he had run out of time and Harry had sent a note to meet here. Drawing and studying wasn't how he wanted this night to go but he felt like a paralyzed puppy about to get abandoned - completely useless, a crushing weight weighing him down with all the things he wanted to say, all the things he wanted to do, and yet...

He stared down at his drawing, at the picture that was so clearly Harry Potter that there wasn't any way anyone could think otherwise. It was the picture that Draco carried in his head at all times, the one he drudged up while stirring that vile potion, while sitting in his meetings with Snape, while taking his lessons and planning his departure, the picture that he would always keep fresh in his mind. He wasn't sure why he had felt such a need to sketch it out in that moment but he kept thinking about Snape and how the man's eyes were haunted with ghosts that hardened him like granite. He didn't know much of what had happened to his Godfather, only brief glimpses during Occlumency lessons, and softly spoken warnings that never forbade him outright from growing attached to Harry but that skirted the line and hinted at a woman with fiery hair. He kept thinking that if he wasn't careful that that would be him, clinging to dead memories and hopeless regrets and hissing hatred at an innocent boy because his eyes were too green. Drawing Harry seemed like a way of keeping him, of holding him frozen in a moment of time, burning the shape of him into his fingers with the charcoal so he would never forget even the smallest of his idiosyncrasies.

Even so, he worried that he would, that one day it would dull, that the pull of horror around him would lessen the picture in his head...

His chest tightened, his side ached and burned, and the charcoal dropped noiselessly to colorless carpet. Moving the span between them was accomplished in fragmented blinks, his arms suddenly full of Harry, the boy’s laughter in his ear as they tumbled to the ground, his lips parting and seeking the others, melding with familiarity and urgency. He drank down Harry's gasp, thrust his knee between the others legs, pulled on thick curls and tugged at the little metal zipper holding the atrocious sweatshirt in place.

He felt frenzied, caught up on a wind that he knew was about to die for the foreseeable future - he pulled, felt fabric disappear and replaced with soft skin, skin his fingers had mapped time and time again and knew by heart. He pressed Harry into the floor with his own body, capturing his wrists and holding them captive above his head, his lips moving down, down, down - the taste so sweet, so bitter, so perfect. Harry was withering beneath him, gasping and cursing in a breathless amazement, whimpering at the scraping teeth and bucking as his pants were torn down his legs.

Draco memorized it all as his fingers left streaks of black along the boy's pale skin.

He categorized every sound that fell from Harry's lips, every word he spoke, every twitch, every gasp, every moan. And when he pulled back, his jaw aching, his lips puffy and wet, popping off Harry's spit slicked cock with a moan he felt dizzy with all that he wanted to tuck inside him and take with him on his mission. His legs spread, his knees bent, and he leaned down and fastened his mouth to Harry's as he straddled the other boy that he had successfully reduced to a shuttering mess.

 

"Harry." He murmured as he reached back and grasped the darker boy's prick with his slicked hand, pressing the tip against his crack. He waited until his green eyes unclouded and focused on his but he didn't give Harry the chance to respond before he was pushing down, biting his lip as he forced himself open, Harry's surprised cry urging him on even though it hurt and burned.

"Draco!" Harry threw his head back, his hands flying to the blondes thighs and latching on with all his strength. "Oh god, oh fuck. What are you..."

Draco cut him off with an awkward kiss as he bottomed out, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain but still savoring the feel of it - the hardness filling him up, so tight he could feel every inch and every pulse and twitch, the muffled groans vibrating against his tongue, Harry's fingers indenting his skin and hopefully leaving bruises he could count and touch when he found himself alone. Though he doubted that no matter how hard he tired that he would ever be able to duplicate this feeling, no matter how hard he imagined or how many fingers he used, he would still ache for him. He felt torn between wanting to keep his eyes shut tight so he could concentrate on every minuscule sensation and opening them wide so he could memorize Harry’s face and watch as the other boy fell apart beneath him – but when he started moving he found he couldn’t keep them closed, his eyelids dragging open with a groan, his gray irises hooded as he stared straight down into Harry's. Silence gripped them, something tangible trapping them still in the moment, and Draco cupped the sides of Harry's face as he rocked back and forth.

"Draco..." Harry whispered with a broken moan, something that resembled both amazement and uncertainty filling his voice as he wrapped his arms around the blonde.

He shut Harry up before he could say anything else with another kiss as he picked up the pace, slamming himself back and curving forward. Making Harry cum didn't take long - not after having been dragged to the point of orgasm for so long now - the boy gasping for breath, his hips thrusting up sharply, his green eyes hazy and mouth open, alternating between trying to slow Draco down and urging him on, his hair sticking to his forehead and his spine curving enticingly as he let out a long groan and reached his climax with his feet pressing into the carpet.

Harry was beautiful when he touched that moment, when he floated above himself, when his body shook then went stone stiff, his eyes heavy and mouth twitching in a smile that spoke so much about him - telling a small story each time, of the boy’s pain, of his heart, of his desire.

Draco watched enraptured, rolling his hips and milking every last drop for himself, drawing out the feeling of being connected like this before the need for more overtook him. He was still rock hard and leaking precum wetly against Harry's stomach and before the other could fully come back down he was pulling off with one last deep thrust that made his insides quack and pushing Harry's knees into the air. He listened to Harry's babbling as he continued on his kissing assault - licks and bites, lips touching wetly and tongue thrusting through a tight ring of muscle.

 

 

Harry was already loose and wet when he pressed the first finger through, his hands threaded through Draco's hair, the Slytherin's name falling from his lips like a prayer. He took his time as he moved his hand, fingers hooking and rubbing and thrusting, his mouth worshiping Harry's stomach and hips and thighs. When he rolled Harry on his side, slicked his cock, and lined up he felt the beat of his heart throughout his entire body, thumping in his ears, pulsing through his limbs. He pushed in slow and shallow even though Harry was nearly sobbing and begging and so completely undone already that all he wanted was to be taken hard.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh...Draco please." He begged as he reached back, his hand latching onto Draco's clenching buttocks - urging him on, urging him deeper as he pushed back and pulled. "Yes, yes, fuck me."

Draco slid in fully, tight heat and unbearable pressure, perfection. His knee pushed Harry's out further, his arm wrapping around the other boy, his lips pressing along Harry's ear and breathing hotly against the sensitive skin as he pulled Harry's back tightly against his chest. "You were made for this." He whispered as he moved slowly, dragging himself out all the way to the tip and pushing, slow, slow, slowly back in to the hilt. "Don't ever forget." He kissed Harry's ear and moved deep, his hand grasping Harry's jaw and rubbing his finger over the boy's panting lips.

"Fuck yes." Harry moaned, sucking Draco's finger between his lips and licking hotly over the pad.

"Tell me how it feels." It was a silly question, making Harry tell him as he thrust another finger alongside the first deep inside Harry's mouth just as his cock moved in his arse. But god he needed to hear, he needed it all, he needed this night to keep him steady through the months to come - to keep the picture clear and in focus.

"Big." Harry groaned, his words muffled around Draco's fingers, his knee digging into the carpet as he tried to gain more leverage to press back with. "And slow...fuck Draco make me feel it."

"Deep?" Draco jerked his hips, burying himself savagely, pulling out and slamming back in, listening with his eyes closed as Harry hollered in ecstatic agony. "Hard? Or both?"

Harry moaned, nodded vigorously, and sucked on the fingers like they were Draco's cock, swirling his tongue around and between the digits, pulling them deep as he pressed himself back as hard as he could. Harry's mouth was hot and overwhelming with the other boy's fingers digging into his arse and his groans muffled with his eyelashes fluttering with every inward thrust - it was too much and he needed to savor every damn moment and make it last. So in the next second he had Harry flat on his stomach, Draco's pale legs spread wider than his, his hands holding him up over Harry's back as he picked up his pace. It was just the angle Harry needed and the boy shouted with a sob, his face pressing into the carpet as he chanted Draco's name and went boneless - his thighs trembling and sweat pooling in the small of his back.

Everything was reduced to this single pin prick of time - the completed potion sitting in his jacket pocket, the fact that his mother was coming to fetch him the moment light touched the morning sky, that he was going to be labeled evil, branded with a hideous mark and forced to kneel before a man he hated more than anything...the fact that Harry wouldn't remember this, remember them...it all flowed away from him on a river of passion. He just let himself feel, buried himself deep, wanting to mark the other boy in some sort of lasting way, wanting to tuck a piece of himself inside the other before it was too late. He kept his heavy eyes open, stared at the side of Harry's face that he could just barely see, and fucked him as hard as he possibly could - storing Harry's glorious groans away along with everything else.

Then time caught back up with them and Harry came again as Draco leaned down and ran his tongue over the dip between his shoulder blades, the muscles contracting around him pulling him over the edge alongside him - his orgasm shocking through him with such force that his entire body shook as he collapsed forward, breathing heavily and staring at Harry's hand laying limp on the carpet under his clutching fingers.

 

****

 

The first time they spent the night together Draco hadn't been able to fall asleep for hours even though he was physically exhausted, uncertain how he had ended up not only with Harry but sharing a bed with the other boy falling blissfully asleep around him like...he trusted him. Draco didn't understand that kind of trust. It frightened him and exhilarated him and he half expected that when he awoke the next morning that Harry wouldn't be beside him at all.

But when his eyes dragged open they were met with the sight of Harry's unruly black mop and his twinkling green eyes and that smile that was a little crooked and a little nervous and more than a little adorable. Draco stared, Harry bit his lip, and then arms were around him and Harry's lips were touching his even though he hadn't cleaned his teeth yet. They kissed softly, then deeply, then Harry was rolling under him and he somehow ended up with legs around his waist and an hour later they were sweaty and sticky all over again and Harry was laying on his back next to him - trying to catch his breath and grinning like a loon.

And then he said the strangest thing.

"Cinnamon, vanilla, and...nutmeg." He whispered then laughed softly with a little shake of his head. "You smell like Christmas." His tone of voice sounded incredulous, like he didn't believe his own conclusion and Draco had no idea what to possibly make of both his cadence and statement but then it didn’t matter because the other boy continued as he stared at the ceiling. He told Draco all about the Dursley's and the cupboard and Dudley and suddenly being on top of buildings and talking to a snake and how he was a freak and a cook and a maid and nothing short of a whipping boy and Draco felt murderous and sick and he wanted nothing more than to find these fucking muggles and make them pay. But Harry was smiling, talking about smelling his Aunt's holiday baking under the crack of his cupboard door when he was little and how he wished he could have just one single treat, one present that wasn't an old smelly sock.

Then he turned to Draco, touched his face and brushed his sweaty hair off his pale brow. He leaned close, closed his eyes, breathed deep, and said, "But waking up with you...it’s like I finally get to have Christmas." Harry kissed him softly, his tongue gentle in his mouth, and Draco felt his heart flutter strangely in his chest, his hands wrapping around Harry's waist and pulling him tightly against him as the boy's story played in his head and he deepened the kiss.

When they parted Draco snickered something about how very sappy Harry was in his sarcastic drawl but inside he felt twisted up, unsure what had just happened but knowing that things had just changed in some life altering way.

 

****

 

"I think I have rug burn." Harry grumbled as he shifted against the back of the couch, his hand pressing flat over his stomach with a wince. "Like all over me."

Draco chuckled as he put the last touches on his drawing, his fingers still and precise even though they wanted to shake as he did so. "Toughens you up." He snickered as he dropped the stub that used to be his charcoal pencil onto the table and studied his finished picture. He would have to dispose of it before his mother came to fetch him but for now he let himself smile down at it - Merlin he wished he could keep it with him. With a sigh, he tossed it onto the table and shifted closer to Harry, his own backside sore and his knees no doubt as red and chaffed as raw as Harry's. He glanced at his watch and felt his side pinch in pain, time was running thin, and Draco was running out of excuses.

After they had come back to themselves, he had drug them down to wash up in the Prefects bathroom beneath Harry's invisibility cloak - the bath warm and soapy, Harry smiling soppy and dunking him under the water with playful pushes. Dressing took longer than normal, Draco's hands unable to keep from Harry's skin, and they had ended up needing another quick shower before they were able to leave by the time he had touched and kissed his fill.

Afterwards Harry had snuck down to the kitchens to snag a bit to eat as Draco raced back up to the Room of Hidden Things, his ribs crushing down into his chest as he fished out the little phial housing the potion and poured it into the bottle of butter beer he had in his bag. There was a small window of time that he had to work within once the potion mixed with the sugary liquid, two hours at the most before he needed to get at least a full swallow down Harry's throat. And then it would all just…slip away from him, like it never happened, and all Harry would remember of Draco Malfoy was that he was a greasy git from Slytherin who thought he was better than everyone else and who constantly ran his mouth off.

It was silly but it hurt, knowing that not only was he going to steal Harry's memories but that he would have to watch as the trust the other boy placed in him dissolved like cinder. Betrayal for a good reason was still betrayal, no matter how one spun it.

Then Harry was back with a grin and two chicken sandwiches and they sat crossed legged by the fire as they eat and Harry talked about the approaching summer and how he didn't have to go back to the Dursley's and hinting with a blush that it wouldn't be so terrible if Draco wanted to crash at his deceased Godfather's house with him. And Draco smiled and nodded and hinted that perhaps it really wouldn't be so terrible to have a change of address even though it made the urge to collapse and weep reach a fever pitch inside him. But he let himself have that little moment of planning a future he knew he wouldn't have, let himself picture the house Harry talked about, imagined them cleaning the dusty rooms, running from the shrieking portraits, cooking in the kitchen as they sidestepped the grumpy House-elf, and falling into bed with Harry each and every night.

But of course that would mean that they needed to actually come out about their relationship and Draco had a hard time not showing his pain as Harry smiled softly and hinted that perhaps that wasn't such a bad idea as well.

It was a beautiful dream.

"Why do I look so...?" Harry's brow was wrinkled, the rough charcoal drawing held in between his fingers as he studied it, his wrists twisting it up and down like that would help him decode it.

"Deranged?" He smirked, as he grabbed his bag and pulled out the butter beers, his heart thumping a beat that seemed to scream 'no, no, no' in his head as he popped the lid back off. "In desperate need of a haircut?"

Harry shook his head, taking the bottle without even glancing over at him as he squinted at the drawing. "No. No...sad."

Draco stilled with his own bottle held between his hands, his eyes fixed on the circular brown opening. He hadn't meant to insert his own emotions into the picture, hadn't wanted to make it reflect through Harry's drawn eyes and the curve of his not quite smile, but apparently it wasn't meant to be - the picture in his head refusing to meld on the parchment, like he knew Harry wouldn't look at him again like that after tonight. Something icy gripped his throat, squeezing tight and stealing his air, making moister prick behind his eyelids. Merlin he couldn't do this, he couldn't...his hand shook as he wiped at his forehead with the back of his fingers, confession pressing at his tongue.

Fuck, he was about to ruin everything. He was about to go and probably get himself killed and destroy the only good thing he'd managed to make out of his life. He couldn't...he just -

"Harry there's somethin-" He stuttered to a stop as his eyes popped open, the bottle pressed to Harry's lips, his throat working as he lowered it and turned to look at him in question. The ground fell from beneath his feet in an instant, his eyes round as he stared at the drop of tainted butter beer clinging to Harry's bottom lip. "Harry." He breathed, frozen, his heart pounding painfully against his chest - hoping, praying, that the potion was lacking, that he had messed it up and it wouldn't work.

It happened in the span of a split second - the drawing and butter beer fell from Harry's grasp, bouncing against the floor as he swayed, his eyes blinking rapidly, his hand lifting like he was going to grab onto something only to grasp his head instead as he gasped. "Draco?" He sounded far away, his head wobbling. "I think - I feel funny."

And suddenly it seemed like some sort of bitter vengeance by some cosmic forces that Draco never messed up his potions.

His arms ached as he pulled Harry against him, pressing a desperate kiss against his lips as he felt a tear leak town his cheek. "I'm sorry Harry, I'm so sorry." He whispered, his forehead pressing into Harry's sweaty one as the boy panted and gripped his shoulders, his wide eyes filled with fear and...heartbreak. Like he knew, like he could feel it slipping.

"I can't...it’s getting...stop it!" Harry choked and Draco grasped his face between his hands.

"Look at me, it’s okay. Okay? It's almost over." His face was wet, stinging with his own tears as Harry's hazy gaze struggled to keep him in focus, his grip loosening as he swayed dangerously.

"Nooo." Harry groaned and Draco felt his heart stop, knowing in that moment that it might never start back up again. But this is what needed to happen right? It was for Harry, it for the greater good, it was important that he hadn't crumbled, that it had been taken out of his hands. Because it was important to remember how Snape had looked at him so sadly, so filled with self-hatred as Draco had sat in Dumbledore's office, agreeing to take the mission - his Godfather's hand on his shoulder, the snippets of a friendship with a woman named Lily he glimpsed during his training, the book with the bookmarked potion finding its way into his book bag, the ingredients that were too easy to steal...

He swallowed a sob and pressed one last kiss to Harry's trembling lips as the boy gasped for breath like he couldn't get anything to fill his lungs. "I love you, Harry." It was the first time he had ever told him that, the truth of his declaration bitter and heavy in his chest as he watched Harry lose his fight against the potion, his memories dropping away from him at a frantic pace as he gripped Draco and panted, the heartbreak written over his face turning slowly to horror, to worry, to confusion, to...nothing.

"I love you." He whispered one last time as Harry's eyes slipped shut and he went boneless, something breaking permanently inside the blonde as he held him knowing that the next time Harry awoke he wouldn't even care that Draco was missing.

 

****

 

He felt detached, like he was floating outside himself as he knelt over the cauldron. With a flick of his wand the silver locket Harry had gotten him and the watch the Weasley's had given the other boy for his birthday came floating out of its depths - the oily potion dripping off the precious items as they hovered in the air. With a soft mutter and another flick the two pieces of jewelry were scrubbed clean of any trace of the spell it had just been put through before dropping into Draco's outstretched hand.

It was strange, he held all their memories in the palm of his hand, all their firsts, all their lasts...every little moment between them embedded in the locket and watch, and yet he felt nothing but cold - like he himself had been locked up inside along with everything else.

"Ready?"

Draco nodded as he slipped the locket around his neck, feeling a small bud of warmth blossom where the silver touched his skin. "Yes." He stared down at the watch for a moment longer, his thumb tracing over the dented thing before shutting his eyes with a sigh. "Get this back to Potter before he wakes up."

"Draco." Snape's mouth was pulled into a thin taut line as he stiffly took the watch, his dark eyes holding too many silent questions for Draco's liking.

"I have to go." He picked up his bags as he dropped his gaze. "Promise you'll get it to him?"

"He'll wake in the hospital wing with no memory of what happened as promised." Snape assured him as he pocketed the watch and Draco turned and left without another word, willing his feet to keep moving with each step he took.

 

*****

 

Draco stood motionless atop the steps leading into the Manor, staring out onto the beautifully crafted grounds. The wind wiped through him, tossing his hair into his unresponsive face, scratching the raw black mark marring his pale skin. A snake and skull, how fitting. Didn't everyone used to call him a snake? With his hand wrapped tightly around the locket dangling from his neck, he slipped his eyes shut and began gathering up ever little part of himself, every desire, every fear, every love, and forced them down. Urging them further and further until they barely touched him, locked away, unable to sway him - preparing him for the nightmare that awaited him.

 

He breathed in deeply, the scent of spilled blood tainting the turning air and stinging his senses.

There was only one thing he kept close, the one thing that would carry him through the coming storm and he would cling to it. Their love was his alone now and he was would keep it safe, keep it alive, if only in his heart. He would shelter it in its own little bottle and pull from its strength, the vision of emerald eyes a clinging hope to steady himself by when everything around him threatens to crumble. And if he somehow survives than maybe one day he could see those eyes for real again. Could hear his voice and feel his touch and make the raven haired boy fall in love with him again - he had done it before, he could do it again god willing.

But for now it would be his secret alone to hold, silently, leaving it unspoken until the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! I'm toying with the idea of writing a sequel to this that takes place after the war from Harry's POV, sound interesting?


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